


Comfort in colors that don't fade

by BrilliantlyHorrid



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daisy is clever and awesome in every circumstance, F/M, Why does everyone live in Wisconsin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrilliantlyHorrid/pseuds/BrilliantlyHorrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy Johnson has a relatively normal life. Her parents are relatively normal (occasionally embarrassing) people. So why doesn't her mom look a day over twenty-five?</p><p>This story asks the big questions:<br/>What if Cal and Jiaying were able to raise Daisy?<br/>What if Phil left SHIELD after New York?<br/>Why does everyone live in Wisconsin?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort in colors that don't fade

**Author's Note:**

> SO THIS HAPPENED. I couldn't get the idea out of my head that the Johnsons and Coulson were both from/lived in Wisconsin. I love Daisy for who she is and where she came from, but I think it's natural to wonder what would happen if her circumstances were different, if her parents got to have the life with her they wanted. Ditto Coulson in SHIELD. Would either of them be content in a "normal" life?

If you asked Daisy, her childhood was relatively normal. She was luckier than most, of course, having a doctor for a father. This privilege (which her parents made sure to remind her of constantly, growing up,) allowed her to have the kind of life where she never really had to worry about anything. Grades, of course, were a concern for most kids, but Daisy was bright and motivated and loved being right, so she tended to enjoy most academics (unless she fundamentally disagreed with the way the teacher taught a lesson; that often resulted in a visit to the principal’s office.)

But other than the usual kid worries, Daisy was fairly carefree.

Until her tenth birthday.

Her parents had taken her and a couple friends to the local park for a picnic, inviting the other parents along as well. Mid-monkey bars, Daisy overheard one of the other mothers, Maggie's mom, talk to her husband.

“Cal’s wife isn’t Daisy’s mother, right?” she asked, and Daisy nearly lost her grip.

 _Of course_ she was her mother, what was this lady talking about? Daisy was going to argue, but ten years of sneaking around a big house taught her that sometimes listening was her friend. Ignoring the burning she began to feel in her palms Daisy hung in the same spot for just a little longer.

“I think she is,” the husband said. “I mean, look at her, they’re practically twins.” Maggie’s mom hummed a little in agreement.

“I’ll say. She doesn’t look a day over 25,” she said. She nudged her husband with her elbow. “I’ll need to find out what she’s doing.”

“I’m guessing a doctor’s salary helps you keep that youthful glow,” he joked, and the two of them wandered off.

Daisy felt her hands slip, and she let out a startled shriek as she fell to the ground. Hissing at the feeling of the woodchips digging into her skin, Daisy heard her mother calling her name. For the first time, she looked at her mother. _Really_ looked at her, then looked at the others. Daisy’s friends were her age, so why did their mothers not look like hers? Her dad looked like the other dads, beginning to get those lines in the corners of their eyes, those gray hairs she hated so much creeping up their sideburns.

Brushing off her knees, Daisy waved Jiaying’s concerns away. She was fine, just embarrassed. She continued celebrating her birthday, stuffing her face with too much cake, giggling with her friends. But there was a feeling she couldn’t shake now, that something wasn’t quite right.

 

When they got back home, before she got ready for bed, Daisy asked if she could see pictures from when she was born. It was her birthday, after all. Cal grinned, grabbing a shoe box off his bookshelf and fanning out a handful of photos. Daisy frowned. “Are there any of me and Mom?” Baby Daisy and Cal, Baby Daisy, all red and shrieky, Baby Daisy and some of the children from the village where she had been born. But no Jiaying. Cal got a strange look on his face, one she hadn’t seen before, before his eyes widened and he snapped his fingers.

“Of course!” He said. Reaching up to the highest shelf, he grabbed a small frame and showed it to her. There was Baby Daisy, happy and asleep in her mother’s arms. Jiaying’s face wasn’t in the frame.

 

Daisy wasn’t a troubled teen, but did she get into trouble? Sure.

When she was fourteen, she asked Jiaying how old she was.

“Daisy, that’s rude,” Jiaying told her, distracted with her latest project of painting the bathroom. She always had some project around the house going on, Daisy swore the woman never stood still.

_So you’d think she’d at least have some crow’s feet or something._

Unsatisfied with that non-answer, Daisy “borrowed” the car to take a joyride to the lake. A few more “surprise road trips” happened, some blatant partying and one time she even deliberately passed out on the front lawn (that had taken some serious planning on her part,) but nothing. No results, apart from some added chores and serious involuntary volunteer work as penance.

(Don’t get her wrong, Daisy like helping people. She maybe would just choose charity gigs that didn’t involve getting up before sunrise.)

 

“Mom, Dad, we’re doing genealogy trees for my anthropology class,” she said one night over dinner.

“That’s fantastic sweetheart,” Cal replied.

“I’ll need to borrow your birth certificates,” she threw out casually, and Jiaying began to clear the table.

“I’ll grab mine for you, but your mother’s is in China,” Cal said. Daisy groaned.

 _Why is everything in China?_ Seriously, she was pretty sure it was illegal for her mother to be keeping all of her vital legal documents in another country. _Did she come here illegally?_ That would explain her secrecy, sure. But it had nothing to do with the fact that she still looked the same way she did for Daisy’s entire existence.

 

“You know, you should seriously talk to a dermatologist or something, tell them how your skin stays so great,” Daisy said another evening, watching her mother get ready for her and Cal’s date night. “I bet people would love to pay for that secret.”

“Secret?” Her mother scoffed. “I’m sure they can’t pay to be Chinese,” she said, putting her earrings on and walking out of the room.

Daisy threw her hands up in the air. “What does that even mean?”

Jiaying sighed, turning in the doorway. She ran a hand through her daughter’s long, sleek hair, then patted her gently on the cheek. “It means you should start hoping you take more after me than your father,” she said.

When the two of them came back from their night out, Daisy greeted them in the kitchen, sipping some cocoa. She had lopped off half a foot of her hair, and given herself a choppy fringe. She thought it looked cool. Jiaying looked like she might swallow her own tongue.

“I’d better not find any piles of hair in the bathroom,” she said, handing a wide-eyed Cal her coat.

Daisy frowned. Nothing? Not even a little bit of a lecture?

“You’re eighteen, you can do what you want,” Jiaying told her. “Within reason,” she corrected.

 

“I don’t think I’m going to go to college,” Daisy said the next morning, crossing her arms.

“Fine, you can work full-time for your father. He needs someone to take out the garbage at the clinic, do the laundry, answer phones.”

 

She went to college. And when she wasn’t in class, arguing with the stuck up white boys that seemed to own Wisconsin, she was in the library, trying to figure out what the hell was up with her family. As a commuter, she still lived at home, but was more than eager to get the hell out, maybe to Texas, or LA or New York, anywhere but Madison. Her bedroom was filled with maps, with little pushpins on all the places she wanted to visit. Her father, ever-observant, gave her a little dashboard hula dancer for her graduation, “as a symbol.”

“Does this mean you’re getting me a car?” Daisy asked, not wanting to get her hopes up.

“We’ll see,” her mother told her, mysterious (and beautiful) as ever.

 _I can’t wait to get out of here_ , she thought, digging her fork into her cake. And she almost did. The next week, Cal announced that the whole family was moving to Milwaukee.

 

Then Jiaying got sick.

It was strange; the first time she heard her mother cough, Daisy felt a sense of foreboding. Her mother didn’t _get_ sick. Her mother didn’t even get bags under her eyes, there was no way she was actually sick.

But it worsened quickly. She was getting short of breath after the smallest tasks, the number of projects she completed in a week dropped to zero. Daisy didn’t usually panic much, but seeing Her Father the Doctor unable to fix her mom? She was terrified.

“I told you, not again,” Jiaying said one night, and Daisy ducked around the corner. Her parents were in their room, the door ajar. “We agreed, never again, not after Daisy was born. And we already broke that promise once, I can't--”

“But we didn’t see this coming,” Cal argued, giving Daisy goosebumps with how lost he sounded. “We thought it would just...even out on its own.”

_What?_

Had she gotten this sick before? While part of her wanted to listen, Daisy couldn’t help but walk away. She felt ten years old again, and she desperately didn’t want to know what her parents were going to say. Not if it meant she might lose her mom.

All those years, was her inability to age a just a symptom of a greater problem? Daisy felt the guilt gnawing away at her stomach. All those times she interrogated her mother about it, what if she was…

Daisy ran into her room and closed the door. She needed to do some more research.

 

“Come again?” Daisy asked the next morning at breakfast. She dropped her fork on her plate and turned to her father. “Sorry, I could have sworn I heard you say you’re _sending Mom to China_.”

“Daisy,” her father began diplomatically, but Daisy stood up abruptly, pushing her chair behind her.

“No, she can barely get out of bed and you want to put her on a plane? You’re a doctor, do you realize how insane that sounds?”

“Believe it or not, I do,” Cal said shrugging his shoulders. “But you need to trust me when I say that this is the best thing for her.” Daisy shook her head in disbelief. “Daisy, listen to me,” Cal said, more serious than she had ever seen him. His hands, always in motion when he spoke, like he was conducting a silent, invisible orchestra, were eerily still, folded together on the table. Daisy sat down. “There is someone there who can help her. Someone who is...uniquely qualified.”

Daisy licked her lips, trying to calm down the panic that was threatening to rise. Was this her father’s way of pushing her mom out to sea on an iceberg? Sending her ‘to a farm upstate?’ But something about his language threw her off. “Has this happened before?” She asked, and Cal seemed to wait ages before answering her.

“Yes,” he said, and Daisy couldn’t help it as angry tears started to fill her eyes.

“You never told me,” she said, and her father shook his head.

“We didn’t want to worry you,” he told her weakly, reaching out to grab her hand. She pulled away and he winced. “I promise you, everything will be alright. She’ll get the help she needs.”

Daisy nodded, looking down at the table while Cal stood. “I want to go with her,” she said.

She knew before he even opened his mouth that her father was going to say no.

 

Creeping down the steps of her apartment, Daisy adjusted the bag on her shoulder. She had one more set of steps before she reached sweet, sweet freedom, but she had to get down the short hallway, past _the door_ first. It had one of those frosted glass windows, so those inside could see that she was there, even if it was obscured. From the direction she was going, it would be obvious exactly who she was.

 _Plus the new haircut didn’t exactly help my anonymity_. She reached up and touched the ends of her hair. She wasn’t sure if she was obsessed with it or hated it yet, but it was worth it regardless for the glare she got when it was revealed. Biting back a smile, Daisy hugged the wall, eyeing the door.

Briefly she wondered if she could just run past the door, and jump over the steps entirely.

 _No way._ Not work the risk of breaking her legs and being stuck any longer. Taking a deep breath she took a step, deliberately avoiding the notorious creaky spot that had given her away so many times before.

No creak. She sighed, taking another step before full on running past the door.

“Oh hey Daisy,” her dad called at her back, and she groaned quietly.

“Hi Dad,” she said, turning to face him. “I was just--”

“Going on the job hunt?” He asked, stepping out of the door to his practice and walking over to her.

That was the problem with living in the (affordable) apartment above her father’s place of work. Rent was cheap, the building was nice, but it was basically like being under near-constant surveillance.

“Yes,” she agreed, looking toward the exit. “Job hunting.”

Cal raised a curious eyebrow. “Funny, I thought the way to do it these days was on your computer, Linking In and all that jazz,” he suggested, and Daisy smiled nervously.

“Yeah, well, that wasn’t working out super great,” she admitted, shrugging. “So you know, thought I’d try the old fashioned way, knocking on doors. Kids these days have forgotten the importance of knocking on doors, don’t you think?” Appealing to her father’s sensibilities worked sometimes, but not when she was so clearly full of shit. Luckily, one of Cal’s patients walked into the building, so he couldn’t hold her.

“Nice outfit,” he said to her, before opening the door to his office and welcoming ‘Petunia’ in.

“Thanks,” Daisy called, knowing that combat boots probably weren’t typical ‘job interview attire'

It wasn’t that she was lazy, she was just burned out. Tired of administrative jobs she was overqualified for, but lacking the skills that would get her a job in a more interesting field. International relations? Fascinating major. Not great job prospects unless your dad is in NATO or something. After getting fired from her last secretarial job -- _How is it my problem Richie Rich here doesn’t understand how to make his own damn coffee?_ \--she needed a break. And it was slowly driving her--and her parents--crazy.

Thinking of her parents, Daisy pulled up the collar of her jacket to protect her neck from the chill. Right. She was on a mission today.

 

The local library was a formidable-looking building, in that it was old and had pillars and dramatic lighting. But really, nothing to write home about. Lots of old shelves, with old books and old people shuffling around apparently not knowing what A Google was.

Settling herself on a bench across the street, Daisy sipped her coffee and pulled out her phone. The library was open til six, so she had a few hours to kill scoping out the place. The door was heavy with multiple deadbolts, beyond her amateur lock picking skills unfortunately. The windows were probably locked as well, especially with the city’s near-constant chill. But if she could get just one unlatched before the place closed…

She’d pulled that trick many a time before, only getting caught once, but that was because the stupid school spent way too much money on some overkill alarm system. ‘Really? This is what public school funding is going to?’ She’d asked angrily. ‘What about the arts? Or a computer that doesn’t weigh 250 pounds?’ The security guards (and her parents) were unsympathetic to her concerns. Apparently her interest in the school's budget was overshadowed by her extreme attempt to get back her contraband cellphone from the Principal's office. 

But this joint? No alarm system in place, as long as you didn’t count the one at the door to prevent theft.

 _I’ll try to remember not to steal any books before I leave,_ she thought, smiling into the lid of her cup.

Daisy wasn’t a criminal (she was eventually let off with a warning for her after-school adventure,) this was in the pursuit of knowledge. Plus, if there was some shady business going on at the library, she couldn’t just stand by and let that happen, could she? Checking the time on her phone, she sighed. Daisy planned to wait until the schools got out, let the craziness of the rowdy teens sucking up the wifi connection and disgruntled children dragged their by their parents distract the staff. She would go unnoticed.

 

It had all started a week earlier. She’d had a particularly awful dinner with her parents (same old story, really) and decided once she arrived at her place that she still needed to let off some steam. Throwing on her workout clothes she ran out the door for a little late night jog.

 _Jiaying would kill me,_ she thought, darting through the city streets. She was just getting out of breath when she reached the library, and something made her stop. Backtracking quietly she ducked into an alley (checking for occupants first, chill.)

Outside the library were three unmarked, black vans.

 _Well this is interesting._ Holding her breath, she saw men in suits walk out of the library and open the backs of the vans. Curious, she crept forward, peering around the corner. _Files,_ she realized, recognizing the white cardboard boxes she’d seen for years in her father’s office. _Disappointing_ , she thought, slumping her shoulders. Probably some Dewey Decimal system shit or something. Stepping out of the alley, amateur spy hour over, she started to walk back before a loud banging noise made her pause.

“Careful!” She heard someone say sharply, and she moved closer, crouching behind a bench. They were taking a crate out of the last van, carrying something clearly heavy, if the noise was any indication. Widening her eyes, she caught the lettering emblazoned on the wooden box before it was carried through the door.

“SHIELD?” She whispered. But she was even more intrigued by the big red letters painted across the side. _Classified_.

 

After her little adventure, Daisy did some research. She knew the basics of SHIELD: FBI mixed with Men in Black. Oh and freaking Nazis. SHIELD had imploded a couple years back, she thought, but it looked like they were recovering from their little HYDRA takeover.

_Or HYDRA is holding onto the old branding._

Considering who she was dealing with, maybe it was risky, what she was doing. But they had information, possibly information she’d been searching for. Daisy had hit a wall, and she felt like the charade would only go on so long before something had to give.

 _And Cal and Jiaying will wait until that exact moment to explain,_ she thought bitterly. She loved her parents, very much. It was why she had stayed so close to home ( _so clos_ e, she thought, picturing her sad little apartment,) instead of traveling the world like she’d planned. Jiaying could get sick again any day, it had happened before.

_So if I can find out what’s causing it...problem solved. Right?_

_Right_ , she told herself, feeling only slightly uneasy. No, she didn’t feel good about going behind her mother’s back, but it didn’t feel good being lied to her entire life either. Plus it had gone on too long. Something had to change soon, otherwise...Standing up, Daisy tossed her coffee cup in the trash. It was time to go in.

Weaving through the shelves, Daisy pretended to look at books, all the while casing the joint. There were windows all along the wall, but all were in plain view of the front desk. Grabbing some dusty old hardcover that smelled like mothballs, Daisy opened it and looked around.

 _One staff member,_ she realized, recognizing the librarian from her previous 'visits.'

He was an older guy, maybe forties, with glasses that made him look like a dork. She wasn’t even sure if they were prescription. He was friendly, quiet, but not super into making jokes. _Or dealing with jokesters,_ Daisy thought, watching as he pointedly directed a group of obnoxious teenage boys to the exit. _Now_ , she thought, shutting the book and dropping it haphazardly on top of the others. Moving smoothly to the nearest sash window she popped the two locks open, with a pretty small amount of resistance given their age.

Stepping back she moved back behind the shelf, feeling ridiculous about how fast her heart was beating. _Most anti-climactic Mission Impossible scene ever_. Sighing, she walked back down the aisle, back toward the main action of the library. She would probably wander a bit more before her exit, not wanting to cause suspi-

“You shouldn’t do that, you know.”

“ _Fuck_!” Daisy’s eyes widened as she turned around. Guy-brarian was standing there, hands in his pockets. His brow was furrowed and he had this weird all-knowing look that immediately made her feel busted. Opening her mouth to form some sort of excuse, Daisy came up empty.

The man reached up to the shelf, grabbing the book she had dropped carelessly.

“These are old books,” he told her with a frown, looking it over like she had stomped on it. “You really should put them back where you find them,” he said, pointing at her with the book.

“Sorry,” she said, sort of meaning it, given how invested the guy was. “What’s the penance for slightly jostling a dusty old book?” He looked surprised for a moment, maybe a little annoyed, but Daisy was shocked to see a small smirk form on his face.

“Usually ten years hard labor, but I’ll let you off with a warning this time.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow. _Is he...flirting with me?_

“Well, thanks,” she muttered, annoyed that she could start to feel her face inexplicably heat up. “Sorry about the...book.”

“Have a good day,” he told her cheerily, and Daisy bolted out of there.

_That was weird._

 

Bracing herself, Daisy pressed her gloved fingers to the outside of the window, trying not to shake. _You’ve done this before,_ she told herself. _Yeah, as a minor. Not an unemployed loser rapidly approaching 30._

“Rapidly” was a slight exaggeration.

Feeling the window finally give, she sighed in relief. Looked like Lawrence of the Library (not his actual name) hadn’t caught her after all. He seemed way too intense for a librarian, she had decided. Librarians were supposed to be little old ladies who walked around in shawls and those clunky comfortable shoes nurses wore. Not smirky guys who were kind of almost cute up close. _Focus, Daisy,_ she thought, lifting the window up until there was a gap she could climb through. She’d placed the screen behind a bush, hoping it wouldn’t catch the attention of someone walking by. _Your girl’s still got it_ , she thought, smirking as she hopped through the window, then slid it shut. Taking a look around, she marveled at just how creepy a place could be after dark.

 _Ghosts aren’t real_ , she reminded herself, walking quietly through the shelves. _Aliens exist, and sentient robots, and maybe gods--jury’s still out on that one-- but not ghosts._

Displeased with her own sad attempts at comforting herself, Daisy sighed. The mission. The mission, the mission, the mission. “If I were a bunch of mysterious file boxes, where would I be?” She whispered, looking around. Passing the front desk, she saw a door. _Employees Only._

“Good start,” she said. Really, how complicated could this be? Opening the door and wincing as it squeaked-- _What, is some WD-40 not in their budget?_ \--Daisy crept into the back room. There were windows, so she was better off not turning on any lights, she decided. Taking out her phone, she turned on the flashlight app and looked around. It was a storage room, with, what else? More books. And shelves, and broken chairs, _and is that someone’s jacket?_

Walking further in, Daisy looked around for any sign of the fifteen or so file boxes she’d seen unloaded. Unless the library was just one stop along the way, they had to be in there. Reaching a dead end, Daisy saw another door.

“This is where the monsters are, right?” She muttered, imagining that she was in a movie and the audience was cursing at her, telling her ‘Don’t open the door, dumbass!’

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door quickly.

_Jackpot._

***

It wasn’t often Phil Coulson had a bad hunch. Okay, once, when he miscalculated and almost died, but just once. So after Fury had the old SSR files and the Box delivered to him for safekeeping, he decided he’d be a little more cautious. Call it a feeling.

Yes, he had technically retired, but he also still owed SHIELD his life. (They also were somewhat responsible for his almost-death, but hey. It was the job.)

So sure, maybe he didn’t want his quiet little life interrupted with a late night visit from (ex)Director Fury, but he also had been expecting it.

“You probably know I’m not HYDRA, right?” He asked, and Fury scoffed.

“Pretty sure HYDRA members wouldn’t be caught dead in sweater vests,” he muttered, and Phil frowned.

“Is it too much?” He looked down at the vest. "It was an impulse buy." Phil didn't miss much about his old job, but he sorely missed the layers provided by his old suits.

“You look like you’re about to pull out a damn pocket watch.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

It turned out that SHIELD had found a new base of operations, and a new (interim) director while the chaos died down. However, they were apparently short on storage space. “Who’s doing the books over there?” Coulson asked, but only got silence in return. He sighed. “What are you looking to unload?”

It was mostly old files, SSR-level old, some newer documents that weren’t mission-critical. Basically, stuff that would be at home in the back room of a library. And wouldn’t attract unwanted attention.

“Is that all, Sir?” He asked. Fury was a cryptic man, always had been. But Phil could tell right away from the face he was getting that no, that wasn’t all.

 

Opening the back door, Phil crept inside the library. He’d been checking each night since the files arrived, just a quick drive out front. Okay, maybe some surveillance from street. It wasn’t like he was getting much sleep before, and his renewed connection with SHIELD had brought back some...less than savory memories. Of why exactly he walked away, and why Fury let him.

So when he saw one of the window screens missing, he took just a brief moment to brace himself and grabbed his gun from the glove compartment.

 _HYDRA, CIA, army, something else,_ he thought, repeating it like a mantra as he walked through the building. _HYDRA, CIA, army, something else._

Sure enough, the door to the back room was ajar. Pursing his lips and steadying his breathing, Phil walked in. Immediately he could hear shuffling, and with a grimace he realized it was in the room where the files (and _it_ ) were being kept.

 _From the sound of it, one intruder,_ he thought, old habits coming back with ease. He hadn’t been out long, but in his field, keeping up your skills could mean the difference between life and death.

_See how well it worked out for me?_

Done putting off the inevitable, Phil whipped open the door and entered the room, gun raised. A scream filled the small room and felt like it pierced his eardrum, and with a small crack he saw a light fall to the floor. Phone, he thought.

“Freeze,” Phil ordered, “hands in the air where I can see them!”

_God, that felt good._

Letting his eyes adjust to the light, Phil began to see the intruder. It was...a young woman? He’d worked with Romanoff, he wasn’t taking any chances. Her hands were in the air, and it took him a second, but he realized she was speaking. Rapidly and somewhat quietly. Her voice cracked and finally she spoke louder.

“ _What kind of librarian are you?”_

He looked at her, lowering his gun slightly. She looked to be about mid-twenties, Asian, dark clothes, her hair was pulled up in a tiny ponytail that sprouted out the back of her head like a spider plant. But something about it didn’t seem right, she looked...familiar? .

Phil tried to hide his surprise.

“I know you,” he said, realizing it was true. He tightened the grip on his gun. “You unlocked the window.”

Warily the girl nodded, staring at his weapon. “Yeah, can you put that down? Kinda freaking me out.”

“Who the hell are you?” Phil wasn’t about to let down his guard, not after everything he’d been through. Why would a civilian go after SHIELD files? Did she know what else was in the room? How did she know the location? She was obviously way more dangerous than she looked. _Which is...not very dangerous_. From what he could see she didn’t even have a weapon.

“Look, I’m not armed or anything, my name is Daisy, I just want information.” She was looking at him imploringly, surprisingly calm for someone at gunpoint.

“Information?”

Daisy stared at him, before looking around. “This is a library, isn’t it?” She asked flatly, and he frowned.

“I’m not kidding around here,” he told her seriously. “This is a restricted area, you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“SHIELD files,” she said bluntly, gesturing around the room with one hand. “Well, SSR mostly, 'proto-SHIELD.' Lots of dusty old files,” she said with a small smile, like he was supposed to be in on some sort of joke. Her face fell. “No? Okay then. Look: I don’t think you’re going to shoot me, but I’m not a super huge fan of guns, so can you put that away? Look at me, I’m not armed. You can even frisk me if you want,” she said, eyebrows raised suggestively.

He stared at her.

“Yeah that was weird, sorry,” she muttered. Not knowing exactly why, Coulson lowered his gun. Daisy sighed in relief, but stood still as he walked closer. He looked her over. _Leggings, no pockets for a weapon_ , and she wore a thin black running jacket and slim black gloves.

It was almost like she learned how to dress like a cat burglar from television. It was endearing in a way, but Phil looked down at her shoes. _Heavy boots, could conceal a knife._

“Can you take your shoes off?” He asked, and her brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded. Coulson tried not to look too startled when she reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. Using him for balance, she reached down with her other hand to unlace each boot before kicking them off, doing a little facetious twirl at the end.

Okay, he kind of liked her style.

(Not that he would tell her that.)

“Let’s go,” he said, nodding toward the door. Daisy began to follow, and he smiled. “You can put your shoes back on,” he told her, and she pursed her lips, nodding.

 

“So you broke into the library to steal SHIELD files,” Coulson confirmed, looking across the table at her. “Tell me again why that’s not a problem?”

“First off,” Daisy-- _Is that really her name?_ \--said, leaning forward, “I wasn’t going to steal them, I was going to read them. Here.”

“All of them?”

She bit her lip. “It may have taken a couple trips.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Because you want information on...some deep family secret.” Daisy narrowed her eyes at him.

“My mom is sick,” she said, angry. “I don’t know what it is, I’ve looked into everything. My dad is a doctor and even he can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Phil said, unwillingly picturing his own mother. 

“It’s fine,” she said, leaning back and crossing her arms. “Well, it’s not fine, but--it is what it is.” She spoke with all the world-weariness of someone twice her age, he thought. It almost made him smile, but he wondered about what had brought that on.

“How long?” He asked, and she looked at him in a way that was far beyond her years.

“I’ve...noticed since I was ten,” she told him, “but it escalated a couple years ago. She almost--” she looked away, and Phil felt compelled to lay a comforting hand on her arm. He obviously resisted.

“I knew that SHIELD has worked with crazy stuff before, stuff modern science hasn’t even begun to understand. Publicly,” she corrected herself, shooting him a look. “I just...my mom and I got in a fight about it that night, she wouldn’t be straight with me or let me help her. Everything suddenly seemed... But when I saw those vans outside, that night, so close to where I am--” She shrugged, and looked at him with this spark in her eyes that very nearly made him jump. “It felt like fate.”

Phil nodded, looking down at the table. He had to help her. He had to. Every part of him was saying ‘Stop, end this, you’re done,’ but still, they couldn’t silence the small part of him that was dying to help this girl. She was bright, and her intentions were honest. And really, wasn’t that what SHIELD was supposed to be about? Before everything went to shit?

(Not that he missed it.)

“So, what are you?” She asked, and Phil looked up. Resting her chin on one hand, she looked at him curiously and Coulson had to suppress the realization that she was actually very pretty. Beautiful even.

_And young and an amateur thief trying to help her sick mother._

“What do you mean?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. God, it was late.

“You’re not wearing glasses,” she said suddenly, looking surprised.

“Contacts,” Phil answered, and she suddenly got this smile on her face that made him very nervous.

“So who are you, some kind of nerdier Clark Kent? Librarian with vision problems by day, and by night…” She trailed off.

“I used to work in law enforcement,” he explained. A lie, but it kept things simpler. “I retired, but some contacts put SHIELD in touch with me. Wanted to store the files with someone knowledgeable, and somewhere they knew would be secure.”

“Super secure,” Daisy commented, and Phil narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, well, that was their mistake, wasn’t it? Not preparing for teenage prowlers watching them make the delivery?” Daisy sat up sharply.

“I am _not_ a teenager,” she argued, as if he had called her something much, much worse.

(Was anything much worse than a teenager though?)

“My apologies,” he said, and she seemed somewhat appeased. “So, I’ll make you a deal,” Phil began, lacing his fingers together in front of him. “You can take a look at some of the files, but only those I approve, and they don’t leave this building.” Daisy looked pleased for a moment, but it was replaced with suspicion.

“If you’re a former cop, what qualifies you to give me access to SHIELD’s files?”

Phil smiled. She was asking the right questions. “That’s where the knowledgeable part comes in. I work in a library, many of those files back there are historical documents now in my care. If I determine they hold no threat to national security…”

“So I’ll get access from, what, World War II? That’ll help,” Daisy said, looking discouraged. This time Phil gave in, placing one hand on hers.

“You’d be surprised at how history can repeat itself,” he told her, and she looked at him, appraising.

“You got a name?”

***

“You know I don’t actually need a library card, right?” Daisy asked, growing impatient. “Since I’m not _actually_ taking out any books.” Phil looked up at her.

“Everyone should have a library card,” he said, returning his gaze to his screen. “Who knows? In all your time here, you might actually find something interesting you can take home with you.”

 _Or someone,_ a dirty little voice in her head whispered, and she pushed it away. _Not the time._

She had been coming to the library every day for the past week, just after closing. She considered coming during normal hours, but Phil was under the impression she was a functioning adult with a job, so she didn’t correct him. It wasn’t exactly necessary for him to know that she woke up at 10 or later, screwed around on the Internet for a couple hours before getting dressed just to come here.

_Then he might think I’m crazy._

No, researching alien/unusual diseases and conditions was for normal, after work hours only. See? Functioning adult.

“I haven’t found anything that matches up yet, do you think you could give me something more recent?” She asked, but Phil sighed. _That’s a no_. She had flat-out refused anything earlier than 1960, so she was currently working with the era of SHIELD most concerned with Communism. Interesting, infuriating, but so far not fruitful.

“You realize these are delicate government documents, right?” He asked, grabbing something from the printer. “Would you just walk up to the CIA and say ‘hey, could you give me all of your top secret files from 1980-on please?’”

“I might,” Daisy retorted, and Phil let out a little laugh.

“You might,” he repeated quietly, walking over to the laminator. As he worked, she scanned the document in her hand. It was a whole lot of nothing. “Hey, what about like, mythical stuff?” She asked, casual. “You guys disprove any urban legends over the years, fairy tale monsters?”

“If you’re asking about Nessie, she requested I keep her identity a secret,” Phil joked, and Daisy groaned, tossing a crumpled up ball of paper at his back.

“Hey,” he said, agitated. He bent down to pick up the paper. “This wasn’t one of the--” He unfolded it. “Mature,”  he said, tossing her middle school-grade doodle of a penis into the garbage.

“Hey, it wasn’t on one of these at least,” she said, waving a file at him. “They’d probably crumble into dust if I tried.”

“What kind of mythical stuff are you thinking?” He asked, and she saw the gears turning in his head.

“Hm? I was just curious,” she shrugged, “A lot of earlier depictions of extraterrestrials, seem to resemble some Brothers Grimm material. Plus, earth thought Thor was a god, and he was actually just an alien. With godlike arms.”

“I’m not responding to that,” Phil said, grabbing a pair of scissors.

“So do all legends have some sort of alien truth behind them? Maybe werewolves have some hair-growing space virus, or I don’t know, vampires could be aliens right?”

It wasn’t her brightest idea, probably her most laughable, but the thought of it still made her nauseous. Youthful creatures, drinking or bathing in the blood of others to live forever.  Aliens were real, gods were real-ish, and something had to explain why her mother was the way she was. But reconciling the image of her sarcastic, furniture-rearranging mother with a literally bloodthirsty monster? That was too much.

“Frankenstein,” she continued, clearing her throat. Steering away from that train of thought. “Resurrecting the dead with some sort of mad science?”

“Here you go,” Phil said, a little too loudly. He placed a small laminated square in front of her. “You’re officially in the system.” He smiled, a little strained.

“Uh, thanks,” Daisy said, “my very own library card. Wee.” Narrowing her eyes, she took a closer look. “Did you-- did you put my middle name as ‘Danger?’”

Phil was clearly having a hard time not laughing at his own hilarious joke. _Ugh he was such a dork._

“Sorry, your whole...thing, when you broke in. The getup.” He shrugged. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Oh, you think you’re so clever,” she said, giving him the fakest laugh she could. Reaching into her bag, she grabbed her wallet. She sifted through her cards until she found the right one. “How about that, smartypants?” She slapped it on the table and Phil leaned in to take a look.

“‘Indiana Jones?’” He asked, reading the name on her fake ID.

“Indiana H. Jones,” she corrected. “This baby got me into every bar in Madison when I was sixteen,” she bragged, raising an eyebrow at his scandalized face. “What, are you going to put the screws to me?”

His eyes widened.

“Because you’re a cop!” She said, mortified. “You know, the old saying-- that’s a thing right?” Phil cleared his throat, picking up his library card materials and bringing them back to his desk.

“Yeah, I think so,” he agreed. Daisy put her head in her hands.

***

Phil had adjusted to Daisy’s presence. Grown used to it. Learned to bear it.

He enjoyed it. He liked it when she came around at the end of the day, knocking on the front door like it was his home. Which, it basically was. He probably spent more time in the library than his own grim apartment. He’d decorated a bit, but it still felt like a temporary home. Strange, considering he wasn’t planning on leaving any time soon.

Anyway, they had struck up a sort of friendship, he would say. He wasn’t sure whether or not she felt the same way, maybe he was just a sort of business partner. Researcher. Means to an end. Regardless, Phil was surprised to find he was enjoying himself with this. During less busy hours of the day he would grab a small stack of files, going through them discreetly on his desk. Placing them in “To Give Daisy” piles and “Under No Circumstances Give To Daisy” piles. Those were less enjoyable. HYDRA experiments, shady SHIELD deals of the past. Of the recent past. He didn’t think they were relevant anyway, but he thought it would help to know more about her mother’s symptoms in order to make sure he didn’t miss anything. But that was the one thing Daisy didn’t offer up details on, so his current filter was “things that present themselves as a long term illness.”

It wasn’t incredibly helpful.

“You know, when I asked for more recent files, I didn’t mean ‘every batshit UFO sighting of the 80s.’” Daisy sighed, rubbing her temples. “God, did these guys resent Steven Spielberg or what? That movie must have like, tripled SHIELD’s caseload.”

“You know, the French guy in that film--”

“Uuuuugh this is so boring!” Daisy groaned, standing up.

Phil sighed. _You try to educate the youth._ “I take it you’re done for the day?” He asked, looking out the window. They were heading into winter, so the sun had been down for an hour or so.

“So done,” she replied reaching her arms above her head and stretching. The move revealed a large patch of skin from her hips to nearly her ribs, and Phil decided she needed to invest in some longer t-shirts. It was cold in Wisconsin.

“You can go, I’ll pack up,” he said, beginning to stack the files.

“No way, I’ll help,” she said, doing just that. Their elbows nearly touched as they tidied up, and Phil nudged her slightly with his. Daisy laughed quietly, nudging him back slightly harder.

_Cut it out, Phil._

“That should be fine,” he said, grabbing her stack and dropping them in the box. “I’ll just--” He picked up the box, gesturing toward the store room.

“Yeah, okay,” Daisy said strangely, and he went to put the box away.

 

“I’m kind of dying for a milkshake,” Daisy said as he locked up. “Oh, there’s this diner that does this ‘Milkshake Monday’ thing, they’re half off,” she mused, before looking at him pointedly. “We could go.”

Phil frowned. She obviously wasn’t asking him to...was she?

_But--_

“It’s Tuesday,” he said and Daisy blinked hard.

“It’s--oh shit.” Her hands flew up to her face. “It’s Tuesday? What time is it?”

“ _Daisy_.”

Phil looked up to see a very angry looking woman shutting her car door and walking over to them. A very angry, very beautiful woman.

“Is that your sister?” He asked, noting a clear resemblance between the two of them. Daisy let out a choked little laugh.

“Yeah, no,” she muttered. “Hey, I’m sorry,” she said, walking over to the woman. “I lost track of time, totally didn’t realize what day it was.”

Apparently Daisy had missed something important on Tuesday. Party? Co-worker gathering? Family dinner?

“Your father said you left hours ago, where have you been?” The woman asked, clearly not appeased by Daisy’s answer.

 _Who is she?_ Phil wasn’t going to lie: he was very confused. She looked like her sister, but Daisy said that wasn’t the case. ‘ _Your_ father.’ Half sister? Estranged? Would explain the anger. But there was something about her tone, it was off.

“Who are you?” She asked, and Phil looked up. It was uncanny, really, they were both so…

“I’m… the librarian,” he said flatly, and the woman arched a perfectly manicured brow before looking at Daisy.

“You’ve actually been going to the library? We thought that was a cover,” she said, and Phil held back a smile. The woman looked at him then. “You’re here a little late, aren’t you?” She asked, looking pointedly at the sign displaying their hours. Coulson hadn’t felt that interrogated since Moscow.

“Yes, I’ve actually been going, Phil’s been helping me with some research. For...school.” Both Coulson and the strange woman looked at Daisy.

“School?” She asked. “You’re going back to school? Your father said you were looking for a job.” The woman sighed, exasperated, and Phil felt a chill go up his spine. He knew that tone. “We’ll talk about it at home.”

He understood. It made no sense, absolutely none, but he understood it all. The voice, the resemblance, everything.

_But how?_

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay Phil?” Daisy asked, looking at him nervously. Did she know he’d figured it out?

“Okay,” he responded, smiling at her. She smiled back, and he cleared his throat and turned to the other woman. To Daisy’s _mother_. “I’m sorry for the mixup, it was nice to meet you…?” He held out a hand. After a moment of hesitation, the woman shook his hand.

“Jiaying,” she said, and Phil nodded.

“I hope you both have a nice night,” he said before walking to his car.

He drove home thinking of impossible scenarios and SHIELD and Daisy’s mother who couldn’t have been older than 30 and yet she was.

And that night Phil laid awake with Daisy’s fears and worries for her mother and _their_ inhumanly beautiful faces and _her_ questions about aliens and vampires and monsters running through his head.

_What are they?_

***

“I brought donuts,” Daisy said, dropping the white bag on Phil’s desk. He looked up curiously, then looked around the library as if it might have closed without him noticing.

“It’s 11 am,” he said, confirming it with a look at his computer.

“Brilliant deduction, my dear Coulson,” Daisy joked, but dropped her smile. Something was wrong. “Everything alright?”

Phil looked up at her. “Hm? Yes, fine,” he said, but Daisy raised an eyebrow. Clearly everything was not fine. Phil seemed to notice her stare. “It’s Wednesday,” he said, as if that cleared everything up.

“Another killer observation,” Daisy said, and Phil sighed.

“Did you skip work?” He asked, “Or school? Sorry, I’m having a difficult time keeping track.”

 _Shit_. Daisy groaned, pressing the heel of her hand to her forehead. He thought she was employed, didn’t he? And what she said to get Jiaying off her back?

“About that,” Daisy began, and Phil crossed his arms. “Look, I may not have been completely honest with you,” she said, but stopped. There was something Phil did, some face he made...it didn’t feel right. Like she had just confirmed something for him. She frowned. “I don’t have a job,” she said, feeling the embarrassed heat crawl up her neck. “I haven’t for… a little while now.”

“Oh,” Phil said, taking off his glasses and grabbing a little cloth out of his pocket.

 _Something is definitely up,_ Daisy thought, watching him wipe the lenses unnecessarily. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” Phil said, and she actually believed him. “But…” Daisy raised an eyebrow. Phil looked around the library. “It might be best if we continue the ‘after work’ time table, even if you’re not actually. You know. At work,” he said, shrugging. Then he tilted his head curiously. “Wait what do you _do_ all day?”

“Okay,” Daisy said, moving to leave. She was reaching for the bag of donuts when Phil pulled them toward him. “Hey,” Daisy let out a startled laugh, grabbing at the bag, but Phil snatched it out of the way again.

“No way, you gave me these, you can’t un-ring that bell,” he said, holding them out of Daisy’s reach while she tried to get the bag back. Putting one hand on his desk Daisy leaned over the desk trying to grab the stolen pastries.

“Come on,” she said, but Phil kept moving out of reach. She groaned, and heard him laugh.

_Hold on._

Looking down, Daisy just managed to catch a smile _with teeth_ on Phil’s face.

“Whoa,” she said, and Phil looked up curiously. “You’re like--” _A good looking guy? Like, a super good looking guy?_ She should probably avoid the tone of surprise, shouldn’t she?

Sure, he always had the ‘cute nerd’ thing going on, then the whole ‘secretly-kind-of-badass’ deal definitely knocking him up a few pegs in the attractive department, but this was--

“I’m…?” His eyebrow was raised, and Daisy wasn’t proud of the way her heart sped up at the sight of it.

“A donut thief,” she said, using the moment to try to snatch the bag from his hand. She was too slow though. “With annoyingly quick reflexes.” Phil smiled a little smugly, before she saw his eyes move to the entrance. There was a flock of teenagers there, a few of whom seemed extremely entertained by the librarian’s antics.

“Field trip?” She asked, and Phil nodded. “I should probably go,” she said, sending one longing look toward the donuts. Phil looked thoughtful.

“Compromise?” He asked, reaching in and grabbing a jelly one, holding it out to her. Daisy smiled, before glancing quickly at their audience behind her.

 _Oh, you thought you would get off easy?_ Instead of grabbing the pastry from his hand, Daisy leaned forward, taking a big bite of it. Phil looked startled, and she definitely heard a few adolescent ‘Ooooh’s, so she would say mission accomplished. _Of course he had to pick the messiest one_ , she thought, feeling some of the jam drip down her chin. Daisy swiped it up with her thumb, which she then brought to her mouth.

“See you at six, Phil,” she said, turning and walking past the group of gawking students and their slightly scandalized teacher. “Stay in school kids!” Daisy zipped up her leather jacket, proud of her little display, but still wishing she had a whole doughnut. _Sacrifices_.

***

Sure enough, Phil heard the telltale knock on the library door not long after he closed up. He felt silly, but during some downtime in the afternoon, he had begun sifting through the SHIELD files, and some of the more...fantastical books the library held.

For vampires.

 _Or vampire-like symptoms_ , he reminded himself, in the process reminding himself that he was killed by an alien, then brought back to life. _Frankenstein, indeed. She’s a vampire, I’m a zombie, we’re perfect for each other._  

But was she? Vampire-alien? Perhaps some kind of virus? She had said it was just for her mother, but the two of them looked _so_ much alike. He had noticed, obviously, that Daisy was a beautiful girl, but seeing the two of them side-by-side, it was startling. Feeling a bit silly, he thought back to Thor, and the Asgardians he’s encountered. His own murderer aside, almost all of them seemed ridiculously attractive. Was the whole planet like that?

So, seeing Daisy, who was...Daisy, then her mother...there had to be _something_ going on there, right? He might even suspect Daisy of being older than she seemed, given her world-weary outlook and far-too observant nature. Her mother definitely sounded older though, and, despite his initial accusations of teen-hood, Daisy looked, acted and spoke like someone in her late 20s. So maybe she wasn’t like her mother.

_Or maybe her mother stopped aging at Daisy’s age, and now it’s setting in for her._

Phil had to admit it: he missed SHIELD work a little bit. All of the theorizing and research and out-there happenings? It was kind of exciting, when you weren’t being killed.

So, maybe Daisy was an alien, or an enhanced. She didn’t tell him, but maybe she didn’t want to make it too personal, or freak him out. Expecting someone’s trust after telling them you’re not entirely human? Probably would leave you disappointed.

Or worse.

Phil thought of the files he didn’t let Daisy see. Given his new insight into what they were searching for, Phil extended his timeline a bit. Went back to the older WWII files. The HYDRA files. The experiments they did, and the knowledge that HYDRA was still, in some form or another, out there, almost made Phil want to tell her to stop looking into it. Avoid contact with SHIELD at any cost, don’t associate herself with someone who could draw attention. Once she was on the radar, people could start asking questions.

But he couldn’t do that. First off, if he tried to send Daisy away she would surely have none of it. She’d probably just keep breaking in and making noise until she got someone else's attention.

And, yes, he enjoyed her company. A lot. So that was in a way selfish, but more than that, his affection for her made him want to help. If something about her mom’s agelessness was making her fall ill, he couldn’t just do nothing. And the idea of Daisy watching that, not only losing her mother, but knowing she could meet the same fate?

He couldn’t let that happen. He had no idea when the feeling came on so strongly, but he knew he had to help her. He wanted her in his life.

_Oh no._

He couldn't start thinking like that, about her. Not now. Opening the door Phil panicked, and ended up plastering a friendly smile on his face.

“Heyyy-- wait what’s wrong?” Daisy asked as she walked in.

 _Bad choice,_ Phil thought, clearing his throat and wiping the too-wide smile from his face. “Hm?”

Daisy narrowed her eyes, strolling past him and turning back to see him shut the door behind her. “That smile just now, you look like you’re being watched,” she said, before freezing. She leaned in. “ _Are you being watched_?” She asked quietly. “Blink once for yes, twice for no.”

Coulson sent her a funny look and began to walk away. “We’re not being watched,” he said, shaking his head at the fact that he even needed to say that. “What kind of library do you think this is?”

Daisy let out a huff. “Um, the kind that keeps top secret SHIELD documents out back and armed employees out front?” Making her way to his desk, Daisy turned back to face him, plopping down on the desktop. “Seriously though, what’s up?”

Declining to comment on her choice of seating, Phil sighed. He had to ask. He had to. Did it matter to him that Daisy could be some...otherworldly creature? Not particularly, if he was honest. But it still was important. Could she elaborate on the symptoms? Narrow down their search?

“Phil, you’re kind of worrying me here,” Daisy said, standing up. “Is everything okay?” He could see the uncertainty in her face, the concern.

“I have to ask, because we’ve been honest with each other,” Phil said, walking closer to her. He looked at her face, her expression. She looked serious, but nodded, waiting for him to continue.  _Honest,_ he thought feeling like shit for his own...omission.  _It's keeping her safe,_ he lied to himself. 

“What are you?”

Daisy blinked. And then again.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean?” She asked, looking genuinely confused. Working hard not to get flustered, Phil tried to elaborate.

“That woman, from yesterday. She’s your mother, isn’t she?” He saw a flurry of emotions pass Daisy’s face: surprise, concern, perhaps a hint of ‘ _maybe_ I could lie?’ Then acceptance. With an adjustment of her shoulders, her hair flicking behind her, he saw resolve.

“Yes,” she answered, seriously. Phil nodded.

“So, what exactly are you two?” He asked again, trying not to sound insensitive, which was difficult when you were trying to figure out what made someone not entirely human. “Did something happen that you can remember? An accident of some kind? Or is it genetic?”

“Whoa, whoa, you lost me,” Daisy interrupted, crossing her arms. Phil’s brow furrowed.

“You’re…”

“Trying to figure out what’s wrong with my mother,” she said, slowly. As if he wasn’t able to keep up.

_Which…_

“Your mother,” Phil said, and Daisy raised both eyebrows high. She nodded. “ _Just_ your mother.”

“That’s what I said,” Daisy said, frowning at him. “Wait. Did you think I was--”

“I didn’t know,” Phil said, annoyingly conscious of his face heating up. “I saw the two of you and thought-- you’re both--”

“Not _human_? Look I know we live in Wisconsin, Phil, but you’ve got to get out of here and see the world if you’re going to start asking every ‘different-looking’ person if they’re an alien.”

Mouth agape, Phil followed her as she walked toward the back room. “That’s not--” As she grabbed the door handle, he rested his hand on her shoulder. “Daisy, that’s not what I meant, I apologize.” She turned around, looking at him expectantly. “Your mother looks...very young.”

“Observant,” Daisy quipped.

“Young,” he continued, giving her a look, “and also very... _very_ \--” He racked his brain, searching for a way to tell his friend that her mother was an incredibly striking woman without making it weird. His point seemed to get across.

“Ew, I get it, okay,” she said, waving her hand like she could push the sentiment away. “But I don’t see how that makes me an alien, or mutant or whatever.” The bulk of her irritation seemed to be gone though, as she pushed through the door to the back room.

“You look around the same age,” Phil commented, flicking on the light. The bulb was out, which was annoying. Luckily there was enough light from the street lamps outside to guide them through the clutter to the back closet. “And you look so much alike, like twins almost, so I assumed--incorrectly-- you had the same ‘condition,’” he explained, pushing a chair out of the way. Daisy made some little snorting noise, leading the way through the room. Then she paused.

“That’s how I figured out she was your mother, actually,” Phil said, feeling pretty proud of himself. “You looked so similar, but acted and spoke so differently--”

“Hold on,” she said, turning to face him. They had reached the closet, which was so far back in the room the lighting was almost non-existent. He could just see the reflections of the light in her eyes, and was the room suddenly more cramped than usual? “You think I’m also ‘ _very_ …’” With a flourishing movement of her hand, Daisy motioned for him to fill in the blank. Hopefully not out loud, or she would be very disappointed. Phil shrugged his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pockets. Daisy looked far too amused.

But also flattered. He could see it, he wasn’t _that_ clueless.

“Right, so because my mom and I are both...good-looking, or whatever, your first thought is ‘ _aliens_.’”

Phil sputtered. “That’s not--”

“You _really_ need to get out of Wisconsin, Phil,” Daisy said, laughing at him. He smiled, reluctantly, of course.

Still laughing, Daisy opened the door to the back closet and was met with the sight of two figures leaning over Fury’s crate.

***

Daisy’s eyes widened, and she felt a hand push her shoulder away, hard.

“Get down!” Phil yelled, and she heard gunshots.

“ _Holy shit holy shit holy shit_ ,” she whispered, or yelled. She couldn’t tell, her mind was suddenly on overdrive. Everything was either happening too fast or too slow, and suddenly Phil had his own gun out and was yelling something.

“Go!” She finally registered him saying, and time seemed to go back to normal speed. Grabbing her arm Phil swung her quickly past the door, back toward the exit. “Daisy, out!”

“But--” He was ducking away from the door now, kicking it shut.

“ _Daisy get the hell out of here_!” He yelled, and for some reason the cursing stuck out the most to her. _Almost_ cursing. For Phil it seemed pretty extreme.

“Fine, fine!” She yelled back, running toward the door. He was buying time, she realized, and she had been wasting it. In her rush through the dark she ran into something, cursing it out as it blocked her way. It was a mop bucket. Not sure what she planned to do with it, she grabbed the mop before leaving the room. Ducking around the corner, Daisy tried not to freak the fuck out.

 _They were shooting at us. They’re shooting at Phil right now._ She was not prepared for this, but she couldn’t just leave him in there alone. He was a cop, and those guys were, what, HYDRA?

“Holy shit Phil’s fighting Nazis,” she gasped. Looking down at the mop in her hands, Daisy placed her foot on the head attachment and rapidly started twisting the pole out of the socket. “Phil’s fighting Nazis,” she reminded herself, trying not to feel too ridiculous about the fact she was basing this whole mop exercise on the robbery scene in a movie. A terrible scream filled the building. For a breathless second, she wondered if it was Phil. She didn’t think so, but...“If Eddie Murphy can fight a scary robber, I can fight a couple scary HYDRA guys,” she muttered to herself, focusing on the task at hand. Freeing the pole from the rest of the mop, Daisy braced herself, then peeked back around the corner.

“Move!” Phil came running out, and Daisy ducked out of the way. Standing on the other side of the door, Phil was breathing heavily. He was holding his arm.

 _He got shot_ , Daisy realized, staring at Phil with wide eyes. _He got shot in a library by a Nazi_. Phil seemed to be trying to communicate with her silently, but Daisy was not in a processing state of mind quite yet. Then she heard them. Hurried footsteps. Without thinking, Daisy swung the pole as hard as she could, landing a blow right on the intruder’s chest as he ran out the door. She could hear the wind get knocked out of him, this quiet little gasp as he staggered backward.

Phil moved in quickly, punching the dude in the face. He went down _hard_. After kicking the gun out of the unconscious man’s hand, Phil leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily.

Feeling like they were forgetting something, Daisy looked around. She gasped. “Where’s the other one?”

Phil didn’t answer her, just shook his head.

“What, is he--” She started to move instinctively toward the back room, but Phil grabbed her arm roughly.

“Don’t go back there,” he told her gravely, and she could see it. Something terrible had happened in that room.

When asked repeatedly later on, Daisy would tell him she wasn’t sure why she did it. Why she felt so compelled to see what had happened back there. Because it was true. She didn’t know why she felt the need to see it, so strong she ignored his instructions to stay put.

But she did. She left the exhausted, bleeding Phil in the entry and ran to see what he’d seen. Her first thought was the man had woken up, had been knocked out and was coming to wakefulness, kneeling in a weak, dazed attempt to rise.

But as her eyes adjusted to the dark room, she saw the man was no longer alive. He wasn’t even a _man_ anymore. Next to the open crate, a person made of stone knelt, his face frozen in agony. In his hand, he clutched a strange object. And for a moment, before Phil pulled her away, Daisy could have sworn she saw images fading from its surface.

 

Wringing her hands, Daisy watched as Phil’s arm got stitched up. “Shouldn’t you go to a hospital for that or something?” She asked, and Phil gave her a pitying look. _Her_. The one of them who was noticeably not shot.

“I understand you were hit in the chest as well, Agent Coulson?” The doctor asked. She was sweet, British, about Daisy’s age. Talkative, definitely talkative.

_Wait._

“You got shot i _n the chest?_ ”

Phil and the doctor stared at her. Okay, she was a little loud just then.

“Not shot,” Phil corrected, “it was just a scratch, he swiped me with some broken glass from the window.”

“I really would prefer to take a look,” the doctor said, and Phil opened his mouth to argue.

“ _Let her take a look, Phil_ ,” Daisy said sternly. The doctor’s eyes widened. Apparently it wasn’t normal for people to speak to _Agent Coulson_ that way. Yeah, “just a cop” her ass. ‘I retired,’ he’d told her, as they waited for SHIELD to arrive. ‘Retired’ from being a SHIELD agent. Except he clearly was still involved, and, okay, shady secret agent man who works for the Avengers takes an early retirement to work in a library?

Phil grudgingly unbuttoned his shirt so the doctor could take a look at the cut. There was some blood, but it wasn’t what caught Daisy’s attention. Before he caught her staring, she couldn’t stop looking at the giant scar running down the middle of his chest.

“What kind of librarian are you?” She asked quietly. What she meant to ask was, ‘what happened to you?’ or ‘are you okay?’ or ‘how could someone do that to you?’ but Phil seemed to get the message anyway, grabbing the hand that seemed to be reaching unconsciously toward his.

They sat like that for a bit, waiting patiently as the doctor (‘Simmons,’ Phil had called her; Daisy assumed it was the whole ‘last-name codename’ thing they had going on,) cleaned and bandaged up the shallow gash on his chest. The hand holding earned the slightest of raised eyebrows, but it seemed more ‘pleasantly surprised’ than judgmental.

Daisy was also on the ‘pleasantly surprised’ spectrum, though obviously not about the fact that Phil was injured. His hand was warm and solid, and if the physical contact seemed weird to him, he didn’t show it. Maybe this was him being nice, an apology for the fact that they could have been killed by HYDRA guys earlier.

“Some retirement,” a quiet voice said, and Phil seemed startled.

“May,” he said, watching as a formidable-looking woman walked over. Phil was clearly surprised by her presence, but in a good way. “You’re in the field?”

“Occasionally,” she said simply, and that was apparently enough for him. The woman, May, looked over at Daisy. Subconsciously, she straightened up. “You’re the one who hit him with a mop?”

Daisy nodded, and the woman’s mouth quirked in the slightest of smiles. “Good,” she said, before walking off.

“I think she likes you,” Phil said pleasantly, squeezing her hand.

Daisy’s brow furrowed. “Does she? I didn’t-- I didn’t get much from that.” Phil just let out a quiet laugh.

“There we are,” Dr. Simmons said, stepping back. “Good as new. Though, not completely healed, you’ll need to take it easy for a bit, but eventually you’ll be back to your old self. Though it may scar a bit, so not entirely the same.” She snapped off her gloves. “You’ll be just fine,” Dr. Simmons said, flustered but smiling. Daisy liked her.

The doctor left them, and Daisy felt a bit like a kid waiting in the principal’s office. Were they going to be scolded? Her for snooping, him for letting her? Ugh, she really hoped she didn’t get Phil in trouble--on top of _shot_ \--that night. A creaking noise caught their attention, and they saw the stone man getting carted out of the back room. Daisy shuddered, not looking at his face.

“What was that thing? And why did SHIELD have it?” She asked. “And why did they leave it here, they just tossed some crazy Medusa rock at you and hope you don’t pick it up?” She could feel her pulse start racing again. Just picturing what it was like to see that happen, how painful it must have been?

“Let’s go for a walk,” Phil declared, standing up. He didn’t release Daisy’s hand, choosing instead to simply pull her along until she caught up and walked beside him.

“Um, I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to go anywhere,” Daisy said, looking back over her shoulder. “Aren’t we waiting for your mysterious boss to appear and either thank us or kill us?”

“Yup,” Phil answered, and when he walked them away from the door, toward the stacks, she understood.

It was calming, even with the insanity of the night, to walk through the shelves. The more and more she visited, the more pleasant the smell of the ‘dusty old books’ became. It was cozy, it was distinct, it was Phil.

(Of course, no matter how lovely it was, Phil obviously literally smelled way better than old paper. It was a more of a ‘setting’ thing.)

Rounding another corner, deep into the shelves, Daisy stopped. She had managed to relax, but her heart was still racing. In a much more pleasant way right now. Taking the lead, Daisy pulled Phil this time, dragging him to the far back corner.

“Everything okay?” He asked, sounding amused.

“Uh-huh,” Daisy said, turning back to face him. Cute, badass, dorky, apparent secret agent Phil. Moving her hands to cup his cheeks, Daisy looked him over. Her pinky finger rested against his neck, and she could feel his pulse racing.

Phil moved his own hands up to cover hers, and Daisy could have wept with relief when he didn’t remove them. “What are you doing?” He asked, a bit mystified.

Daisy shrugged. “I always wanted to kiss a nice boy in a library.” Taking the way his eyes lit up as her cue, Daisy leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Call it adrenaline, call it a crush, call it whatever you want, it was nice, and fun and exciting in a way her life hadn’t been in a long time. It was the rush without the break-in, the rebellion without her mother’s exasperation. It was _way better_ than she expected from the dude who made her a library card.

Feeling his hands move from hers, to her waist to low on her hips -- _Do I have to revoke the ‘nice boy’ title_?-- Daisy opened her mouth under his, hoping to make her approval _very_ clear. Sliding one hand down from his face, she settled it on his chest. They both froze, pulling apart.

“Sorry, I--”

“No, it’s okay.” They both stammered, before falling into silence.

“You don’t have to talk about it or anything,” Daisy said. “Sorry, if I stared, it’s just--”

“It’s a lot,” Phil said quietly. “Kind of hard not to stare, I understand.” Daisy tilted her head.

“I mean, it’s a nice chest,” she said shrugging. “So, you know, credit where credit is due. For the staring.”

Phil gave her that little ‘I don’t believe you’ smirk, before leaning in and kissing her slowly, his hand gently combing through her hair. “We should probably stop,” he whispered against her lips, and Daisy sighed.

“Because there’s no sex allowed in the library?” Phil made a little choking sound, but his big show of being shocked and scandalized was betrayed by the warm hand rubbing small circles on her lower back.

“That,” he agreed, “and the fact that I’m pretty sure my boss just got here and the last charge I needed added to the list is workplace PDA.”

“Gotcha,” Daisy said, pecking him on the lips one last time.

Walking back through the stacks, they were like gooey eyed teenagers, making faces at each other, getting it all out of their system before their lecture. As they exited the shelves, they heard a commotion.

A few SHIELD agents all suited up in Hazmat suits were gathered around the raised HYDRA statue, trying to pry something out of his hand.

 _It’s the object,_ Daisy realized. The thing that turned him into stone, with just one touch.

They were in the process of chiseling it out of his rocky grip when one of the wheels on the cart broke, jolting all of them. As if in slow motion, Daisy saw one of the SHIELD agents jump, missing the stone completely and knocking the object clear out of what was once a hand.

It flew through the air, and with a jolt of fear Daisy realized it was sailing right towards Phil.

So she caught it.

The room was enveloped in dead silence, as people realized what had happened. Next to her, Phil was yelling something, the suited-up agents were running over, but all she could hear was the ringing in her ears.

 _I’m going to die,_ Daisy realized. It would start with her hand, then work its way up until Daisy was gone, and that _thing_ would remain.  _I'm going to die and turn to stone_.

It was insane, and terrifying, and...nothappening. 

It should have been more immediate, she thought. But all she felt was a warm sensation in her hand. It was _that_ that spread over her body, not a painful, rocky death. She felt warm and somehow at home. In her hand, the images she had seen before, raised in relief in the moonlight, were now glowing orange. It was beautiful.

Through the craziness, she turned to Phil. He looked from her hand, to her face, then back again, horror slowly fading to astonishment. She raised the object, which was at this point clearly not killing her, up to eye level.

“I think we’re going to have to revisit your alien theory.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Woo boy. So it's sort of open ended, but really I'm not planning on writing a novel here. I don't need to go into a 50-chapter alternate universe, because like I said at the beginning: I like the show. I like what it's doing. I cannot do better, nor will I try. This was more an experiment, again, based on the silly fact that Daisy and Coulson could have grown up in the same state. Which is bonkers. 
> 
> Plus they love each other in every circumstance, right? Right.


End file.
